


Mates

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearing the end of the hunt for the Horcruxes, Harry is exhausted and stubborn.  Ron tries to reason with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mates

"You won't change his mind, Ron." 

"Don't want to change it." Ron worried his lower lip for a moment before shooting Hermione a lopsided grin. "Just want to introduce a bit of reason to it."

"If he won't open the curtain, leave him be. All right?" She gave him a stern look that still, after six years of friendship, rather made him want to crawl under a rock. He hated that look. Well, when it was directed at him, he hated it. When Hermione was serving someone else up a dose of that look, Ron thought it was more than a little sexy and a whole lot amusing. Sexy 'cos her eyes would narrow, her lips would curl, and her cheeks would flame, and amusing 'cos the person getting the look nearly pissed and tripped over themselves backpedalling from whatever they'd said or done to irk Hermione.

"All right," Ron said after a beat, nodding in agreement. Behind his back, his fingers were crossed, but she didn't have to know that. "Won't be long, I reckon." He figured Harry would send him away before he ever got his mouth opened, but at least he had to try.

Hermione waved him away and turned back to the pile of notes and books in front of her. He watched her in silence for a few moments, fingers itching to brush away a lock of hair that was falling in her eyes. Ron didn't move to touch her, though. Later, maybe. For now, he had to attend to a best mate that was in serious need of a talk, or at least a listen.

He left her in the library and travelled the empty Hogwarts corridors and staircases, heading to Gryffindor. They had been at Hogwarts for a week now, researching Rowena Ravenclaw and possible places her brooch, the sixth and final Horcrux, could be. They had been at Hogwarts a week now, and Ron was still not used to its empty corridors and empty rooms and empty chairs and empty tables. It was dead eerie; even the portraits seem to have been vacated. They had not seen the Fat Lady at all since they had been back, nor had they seen Sir Cadagon or even the Fat Lady's perpetually knackered friend Violet. 

No Fat Lady, no need for a password. 

The portrait hole was open, so Ron climbed through and cut across the common room. Red and gold everywhere, but no bangs from Exploding Snap games or giggling third years or Dean whooping about a Muggle West Ham game. So quiet and _strange_. A small shudder travelled up and down Ron's spine and he tried to shake the uneasiness out as he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Harry?" he called as he pushed open the door. The hinges creaked and groaned in protest, an ugly sound that made Ron flinch. Ruddy castle was a touch scary with no one around. Not that Ron was scared. A bit jumpy, maybe. Scared, no. That's what he told himself, anyway.

"Go away."

_I knew he'd say that._ Ron rolled his eyes and let out a very Hermione-ish huff (and immediately mentally berated himself for it). "I knew you'd say that." The door slammed behind him and he made it about halfway to Harry's curtain-drawn four-poster before he stopped. Stopped and stared at the slight part in the curtain. If he squinted and tilted his head just so, he could make out Harry's arm - _and was that a thigh?_ \- in the dim light.

"Thought you were pants at Divination," came the reply. "If you knew I said that, then you know I'm going to tell you to go away again."

"Yeah. But you're not my mum, so I don't have to listen."

Silence hung heavy in the air for several long moments until it was punctured by a sound that was half-laugh and half-sob.

"What?" Ron asked, his brow furrowing with confusion. 

Harry didn't answer, but the curtain did rustle a bit.

"I know you're in there, Harry." 

There was an odd snuffling sound in reply, and Ron began to feel ruddy ridiculous trying to have a conversation with a curtain, so he decided to do something about that.

One, two, three, four strides of his long legs and there Ron was, hands parting the curtains and whisking them back to reveal Harry all balled up on top of his duvets.

"Hey," Ron said quietly, not waiting for an invitation to climb up on the mattress beside him.

"Hey," Harry mumbled into his hand. 

_You need sleep. You're too thin. When did you get wrinkles about your eyes? You're pale. You look exhausted. You're worried. You shouldn't be, not about me. Not about us._

There was so much Ron wanted to say, watching Harry as he pressed his palms against his face, but he didn't know where to start. Or even if he should. Start. Maybe he shouldn't. Harry has enough to think on and the last thing Ron wants to be is a bother or a burden.

"Horcrux." 

Ron's ears perk up; it was muffled, but Ron had had Horcruxes on the brain for long enough now to know when a person said the word.

"What about it?" he asked carefully.

"Never..." Harry rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, then stared up at Ron with a pale, haggard face. The face of a boy-man growing too fast for his skin, for his soul. 

"Never what?" 

A beat, then: "We're not going to find it, that's what!" Harry roared and Ron winced, reminded all too clearly of how he had been back in Grimmauld Place what seemed like eons ago.

"We are," Ron said slowly, reaching out to give a squeeze to Harry's shoulder. 

"When?" Harry whispered, and Ron shook his head.

"Dunno," he said honestly, fingers digging into Harry's shoulder, massaging. He didn't exactly know why he was doing it, but Harry sucked in a breath all sharp-like and Ron very well liked that sound.

"Ron?" 

"Yeah?"

"Feels good," Harry breathed, and Ron exhaled slowly. It felt good to him, too, having Harry under his hand. Different than Hermione, but just as good. She was all soft and round while Harry was all hard and angles, and Ron didn't think he could be arsed to choose which was better. He couldn't be arsed to choose which was better because...

...Because he didn't want to have to choose. He just wanted to be.

So he was.

Before he could stop himself, Ron crawled the rest of the way over to Harry and tossed a leg over his thighs, straddling him. Both hands went to Harry's chest, pressing against flesh as he pulled his hands down over his torso. Warm and solid and angled and Ron rose up to better position his hands and then sank down again on top of Harry's thighs and _oh_. Oh, yes. Friction right there right _there_. He didn't really know what he was doing but it felt good and _Harry_ felt good and sounded good and--

"S'more," Harry said hoarsely, and Ron nearly died. Nearly, but not quite. He pitched forward at that, burying his face in the curve where Harry's neck and shoulder met. Breathe in breathe out that warm heady scent yes yes heaven oh _hells_ \--

He didn't expect it, but he'd wanted it, and there it was. A hand pressed over his trousers and cupped him and it was _Harry_.

"What're we...?" Ron gasped, lips moving against Harry's throat.

"Mates," Harry returned.

"Right." Ron screwed his eyes shut and pushed into Harry's hand. Nice. No. _Brilliant_. He could feel that edgy building wicked sensation beginning to bubble and he-- Harry-- it-- had to happen. They had to happen. Just had to. "Mates," he echoed, taking in the smell of Harry again as his hand slipped down to a zip - Harry's - to undo buttons. Spit on his hand before parting of the fabric and then hot and hard and ready in against his palm, under his fingers. Harry. Ron swallowed hard and paused. This was _Harry_. Could he really...? Could they...? And Hermione...what about...? 

No. He wouldn't choose. Wouldn't. Just be.

Biting his lower lip, Ron began to stroke Harry ever so slowly, loosening and tightening his fist as he went along. His eyes locked with Harry's and damned if he didn't get hard himself just watching the way Harry's eyes rounded and focussed on him as though he were the only thing in the world. Got harder still at Harry's panting and the way he was pressing a hand against Ron's trousers while the other fisted in the duvets. 

"Yes," Ron groaned, dropping his gaze to Harry's mouth. Oh, fuck. Lips slightly chapped and red and Harry's. Ron couldn't help but to lean in and crush his lips to Harry's. Their mouths mashed together and Ron ran his tongue over Harry's lips and behind the lower one over that sweet spot, then along the teeth before finally delving into the warm crevice of Harry's mouth. He kissed Harry deeply, still stroking him, and thrust into Harry's hand. When stars began to bloom white behind the blackness of closed eyes, Ron pulled back from Harry, their mouths separating with a _pop_. A deep inhalation and then he could think more clearly. Think and stroke and thumb the slit on the head of Harry's cock. The little whimper-moan Harry let out at that was fucking fantastic, so Ron did it again. And again. And again until Harry's head fell back, exposing an expanse of delicious neck to Ron. Ron dove in, laving his tongue along the column of Harry's throat and cupped his balls at the same time. Cupped and squeezed and _pinched_ at the same moment his teeth scraped along Harry's jaw. Then there was shaking and cursing and warm wetness spilling over Ron's hand, against his stomach.

He stilled the motion of his own hips and grit his teeth. Never mind about himself. He could take care of it later. What mattered right here and right now was Harry. 

When Harry finally stopped shaking, Ron slicked back fringe from his forehead before rolling onto his back, pulling Harry close against him.

"What--" Harry started, but Ron cut him off. 

"Us," he said simply. "That's what happened."

Harry nodded against his shoulder and then, in the next beat, Ron felt him tense up again. "Oh. Oh God, Ron. Hermione--"

"She's us too, mate," Ron said gruffly, threading a finger in one of Harry's belt loops and tugging.

There was silence and Ron could almost hear the wheels in Harry's mind turning. 

"She is," Harry said softly, and then he laughed. Harry laughed and his laughter jostled Ron, who couldn't help but to join in. It felt _good_ to hear Harry laugh. "She told you to leave me alone, didn't she?"

"Yeah," Ron confirmed, the laughter turning into snickers. "I'm pants at following directions, obviously."

"Obviously," Harry agreed. 

"I reckon she knows that, though," Ron mused. 

"Just like I know you two aren't going to let me go after this last Horcrux alone," said Harry quietly.

"Damned right we aren't," Ron replied, and he meant it. "We're your mates, through and through."

"No changing my mind about that," Harry said with a grin. 

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ron swore. And he wouldn't.


End file.
